


Unappreciated

by batbaby78



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batbaby78/pseuds/batbaby78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A person can only be so nice for so long. After a year of living together, Peeta realizes just how irritating the line between being nice and being walked on is. What he wasn't expecting is for Katniss to comply so willingly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unappreciated

Unappreciated (NC-17)

A person can only be so nice for so long. After a year of living together, Peeta realizes just how irritating the line between being nice and being walked on is. What he wasn't expecting is for Katniss to comply so willingly.

Looking around at our house, I wonder just how she was always the one who was in charge of her family before. I mean, yes, she hunted; she is the one who brought the food literally to the table. But was she always this messy? Who cleaned up after her? I hope it wasn't Prim and I'm more than sure it wasn't their mother, who was useless for such a long time according to Katniss. I'm thinking about this because for the hundredth time, I'm going around the house, picking up random things she's just left out, sweeping dirt off the floor from her boots, and having a meal going on the stove so that it's ready when she gets home. 

I can't do this anymore, I shouldn't do this anymore, I say to myself as I throw her socks into the laundry pile. Is this what my mother felt like with three boys and a husband? Oh wait, no, she made us do our own laundry and clean up after ourselves. Nope, the only time someone cleaned up after me was my time in the Capitol. Before I was tortured. I shouldn't be thinking of it like that, but I'm feeling used and unappreciated, which is uncommon for me. I like doing these things for Katniss, don't I? I like making sure she comes home to a nice clean place to rest, with me. I shake my head and go up the stairs to our room, lie down, and cover my eyes with my arm.

"Peeta?" I vaguely hear her voice as I slowly wake up. Did I fall asleep? I didn't mean to. I hear her call my name out again. "Peeta, are you upstairs?"

I get up and walk out to the landing, looking down the stairs where she is, playing with her braid like she does when she's nervous. She probably thinks I had an attack or something and just like that, I remember that I left the stove on. I run downstairs, past her and go to it, finding it off, but the smell tells me it must have burnt a little bit. I grab a potholder and lift the top, stirring the stew gently, feeling a little thickness at the bottom. It isn't ruined luckily.

I feel her rather than hear her come up behind me and keep stirring. "Are you okay? Did something happen? The stove was on and it's a mess in here."

I carefully lay the large wooden spoon in its holder before I turn to her. Taking a deep breath in, not wanting to sound too angry, I answer, "Well, how could you tell? I mean, you leave the mess usually, not me."

I walk to the other side of the kitchen, where I have some bread that I baked earlier, waiting to be sliced for our dinner. I focus on that rather than her, making sure the slices are thick and even, so that they'll hold up if we dip them into the stew.

"Are you mad at me about something, Peeta?" She asks, walking to my side but staying far enough away in case I go into one of my fits. But I am fully aware of what's happening and this isn't something that would trigger me. I can see her looking at my face, watching for the signs from the corner of my eye.

I stop for a moment without turning to her again. Shaking my head, "I don't know what to do anymore, Katniss, you always leave this mess, and it's like you expect me to clean it up for you every time. Every time."

I look over at her and she's stunned, has she seriously never noticed this? That the house is a mess when she leaves, after she's left it and yet it's always clean when she gets back? Is this really what she expects of me; to clean up after her all the time?

"Every day, Katniss, I make sure that you have something to eat before you go out hunting, but I also make sure I've cleaned up any mess before you get down here so you don't have to see it. I make sure there's lunch or dinner ready for you when you get home, but do you ever see a mess from that meal that I've made for you?" I say, throwing my arm out to the general kitchen area. I realize I still have the bread knife in my hand and put it down. "And you? Do you do the same? No! You come home, stomp your boots, getting mud and dirt and dust everywhere, leave cups around, leave your plates wherever you happen to sit if it's not at the table...."

"I do the dishes when you've cooked." She chimes in but I go on.

"I make sure the laundry is done and put away where it should go, whereas you leave your shirts on the floor, socks wherever. I mean, seriously, Katniss, how hard is it to put them in the hamper? We have two in this house; you can't just walk your stuff to one of them?" I think my voice is rising, judging by how wide her gray eyes are getting, but I'm still not done. Before she can interrupt me again, "All I want to know is why you keep doing it?"

Her voice is low when she answers and I make her repeat herself, "Because I thought you liked it. You never said anything. So I just kept doing it. I didn't think it bothered you, but obviously I was wrong. I promise I will put away my clothes where they belong and put dishes in the sink, rather than leave them wherever I am. I can do that, Peeta, I'm not incapable."

"Why did you think I liked it?" I question her, moving closer to her. Her eyes are still wide; as if she's still afraid I'm going to have a meltdown. I put my hands on her arms, "I'm fine, I mean, I'm angry, but not that kind of angry. I promise you I'm very much in control of my feelings right now. But I still need to understand why you would think I'd want to clean up after you. I mean, do you know how shitty I feel when I don't even get a thank you for making sure the house looks nice?"

She throws her arms around my neck, her voice muffled since her mouth is buried in my neck, "I'm sorry, Peeta, I just....I take you for granted."

I whisper into her hair, "Please stop that."

She chuckles and pulls back to look at me. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again. But don't go so long without telling me either, it's not like it's something hard to fix. I have an idea that might show you how much I appreciate what you do for me."

The look in her eyes has shifted from remorse to sensual in the span of ten seconds. She probably isn't even aware she can do that and the effect it has on me. "What could possibly make up for such a long time of this going on?"

She turns, taking my hand in hers and dragging me behind her, to the living room. Once she's stood me in front of the couch, she pushes me down and starts unbuttoning her shirt. She's just about to toss it on the floor when she says with a smirk, "I promise I'll pick it up later."

All I can do is grunt as I take in the sight of her breasts, small and perfect before me. She chose to not wear a bra today, lucky me. My pants are feeling tighter every second that passes by. When she bends over and shifts me so that she can unbutton and pull them off along with my underwear, I let out a sigh of relief. "You don't seem so mad at me right now."

"Shut up, Katniss and suck my dick." I hardly ever get bossy with her, but all she does is raise a dark eyebrow and gets down on her knees between my legs. She takes me into her hand, running it up and down for a moment, gathering the liquid from my tip and slicking my shaft with it before she covers it with her mouth. My head hits the back of the cushions. "Oh fuck."

I lift my head so I can watch hers, bobbing up and down over me, taking more into her mouth than she ever has before, making me more and more excited. She twirls her tongue around me and begins to palm my balls, and I know don't want to finish this way though, not in her mouth. 

My voice sounds foreign to me, like a growl more than what it normally sounds like, "Take off your pants and turn around, Katniss."

She's all about doing what I tell her, which is making me harder than I think I've ever been. Katniss slowly peels off her pants, turning as she does so, her ass right in my face when she bends over to push them down along with her panties, with her hands instead of her feet like she normally does. This is new and I like it. I smack her behind, just trying it, see how she reacts, but all she does is turn her head to me with a smirk. "Is that all you're going to do to me, Peeta, given how mad you are at me?"

"Uhhh..." I wasn't expecting that. So I smile at her and do it again, a little harder. She moans and straightens out, standing with her back to me but entirely naked. I stand up, making sure I'm just far enough away that only my dick is touching her back before I place my hands on her shoulders and run them slowly down her arms. She shivers and I lean my mouth in closer to her ear, "I want to fuck you, Katniss."

I push her over roughly, so her ass is right up against me, but I feel the need to touch her, where I know she is the warmest, the wettest, knowing I did that to her. I slide my fingers over her butt, give it a good squeeze, and then slide my hand between her legs, which she has spread wider for me. My fingers move on their own accord through her folds, slick with her want for me. Not wanting to wait any longer, I take myself in my other hand and glide into her with a hard thrust.

"Oh God, Peeta!" Katniss cries out in surprise and puts her hands on the coffee table in front of her so she doesn't fall over. I don't let up, slamming into her, my balls hitting the back of her thighs and making me tingle all over, holding onto her waist tightly. There will probably be bruises there tomorrow, but I won't feel guilty about how they got there.

I slow my pace for moment, teasing her as I ask, "So, you'll help out more? Clean up after yourself?"

I stop; the tip of me just barely touching her but I don't move, she knows I'm waiting for an answer. I take myself in my hand again and rub my head against her folds, not going in, just stroking her, teasing her. Her voice is shaky, as are her legs when she finally answers, "Yes, Peeta, I'll help clean up more. I won't leave a mess for you to clean up anymore."

"That's all I wanted to hear." I reply, pumping into her hard again, hitting her butt with the palm of my hand. Given her olive tone, it doesn't look like much more than a slight pink. I'm leaving my mark all over her tonight and couldn't care less how I'm 'claiming' her. 

I reach one hand around her front, her breast filling my hand nicely, jiggling from how I'm thrusting into her. I pinch her nipple, smiling at her gasps. I place my other hand at her middle, having her straighten up against me so I can whisper in her ear again. "Do you like this, Katniss? Do you like how I fill you up?"

"Fuck..... Peeta.... I like everything you do to me." She barely gets out as I start to rub her clit with my fingers. I can feel her tightening around me and the tug in my the base of my gut, letting me know I'm ready to spill into her. 

"I'm gonna come, Katniss." I warn her, just in case she wants me to pull out even though I don't want to.

She wraps her hands around to my butt, squeezes, pulling me in somehow closer. "Just do it, Peeta."

I push her back down and slam into her once, twice, the third time stilling as I release my seed deep inside of her. My hips jerk against her and she cries my name out, her walls closing in on me, milking out whatever is left in me. I stumble back a little, holding onto her waist, pulling her with me as I fall down into the couch cushions. 

I'm still inside of her, when she lays her head back on my shoulder, her head slightly turned so that her breath tickles my jaw as she says, "I think you should get mad at me more often."

I smile at her lazily, kissing her nose and respond with, "Just pick up your fucking socks."


End file.
